Gumshoe's Life
by Master of Caffeine
Summary: A oneshot about the everyday life of everybody's favourite bumbling detective. Based on JFA with a fictional case, but no actual spoilers. My first fanfic in about a year, so please don't be too harsh with your reviews and objections.


MOC: Greetings, faithful fanfiction reader. I present to you my first fanfic in about a year - basically a bit of drabble about Dick Gumshoe's life.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Phoenix Wright, Capcom or any objects of considerable value.

* * *

At 6 in the morning, the Criminal Affairs Department was practically empty. Most of the detectives working there hadn't woken up yet, sleeping in big beds with expensive duvets wearing costly pyjamas.

However, it most definitely wasn't silent.

There was only one sound running through the department's corridors, but it was one hell of a sound - a loud, deep snoring sound, like that of a bear. Its owner was the sole detective in sight - slumped over his strangely empty desk. It had no files, no computer and no decorations, with the only object on it being a small post-it on which was written (in particularly bad handwriting) "Dick Gumshoe's desk".

The detective would have slept sound for a good six or seven hours were it not for the stray ray of light that hit him straight in the eyes.

The snore quickly turned into a groan as Detective Gumshoe began mumbling to himself.

"Uh…please, Ms. von Karma…not the whip…"

Suddenly Gumshoe jerked right up on his seat, as if awoken from a nightmare. Sweat ran hastily down his face, and he took a few moments to calm himself down.

He was still alone, much to his relief. It would be about half an hour before anyone joined him here, so he began his typical morning ritual.

Firstly, breakfast. From the pocket of his scruffy coat (a colour that must once have been beige) he pulled out a pot of cold instant noodles. They were uncooked; Gumshoe couldn't afford a microwave in which to heat them, so he simply ate them as they were sold. This would probably bring around some sort of illness in most people, but years of poverty had given the detective an immunity to such things.

After that he brushed his teeth using the single, small bathroom the department provided him. If he ever got promoted, they'd probably give him something a little more hygienic, but he probably couldn't expect much considering he'd already been fired and rehired more times than he cared to remember.

In this everyday procedure Gumshoe never found time to wash himself. He never took off the coat that had now become his symbol and earned him an array of nicknames across the force. This was partially for nostalgic reasons, but mainly because he couldn't afford another coat and it was all he had to keep him warm in the winter nights.

By the time he'd finished brushing his teeth - leaving them a radiant shade of yellow - he was no longer alone in the department. This would please most people, and it would have made Gumshoe happy were it not for the identity of his companion.

She was one of the few women on the force, but she had earned a reputation greater than that of any man on the force. She was no cop; instead she stood in court getting guilty verdicts against the criminals who detectives like Gumshoe apprehended. Her win record was nearly spotless, but that was not the reason for her renown; that would be the whip that she carried around with her at all times - and used far too regularly.

She was Franziska von Karma, and she was the last person Gumshoe wanted to be alone with.

Franziska wouldn't typically talk to him as she entered - instead, she would simply stare at him in disapproval. He always cowered away from that stare - like a stray dog in the face of a shotgun-toting ranger.

She then walked away into her own office, locking the door behind her. Gumshoe usually didn't see her for a good few hours, but the cracks of her whip could be heard throughout the building. Occasionally he wondered what exactly she was striking, but usually the train of thought ended with the relieving idea that it wasn't him.

* * *

Although Gumshoe rarely handled paperwork, he was one of the most active detectives on the field. He was the retrieval dog of the force: when there was a murder, he was always the detective that the chief called away to investigate the crime scene. 

By 10 a.m. he was gone - inspecting the lavish villa of a murdered musician by the name of Sue Nata. From what he had collected so far, it looked to be an open-and-shut case - a crime of passion, a woman murdered by her boyfriend.

But if anything it appeared too obvious. There was too much evidence - the criminal had made no attempt to hide the weapon or even clean the bloodstained carpet. Most detectives wouldn't bother thinking about more ridiculous possibilities like a framing, but Gumshoe's mind was exceptionally open.

And from experience, he knew that there would soon be another visitor to the scene.

"Detective Gumshoe!"

Almost as if on cue, a familiar voice called his name. Gumshoe turned and saw the speaker staring at him, strangely cheerful given the atmosphere. His smart blue suit made him appear sophisticated, an image marred by his spiky black hair which appeared to have a mind of its own. Accompanying him was a young girl, definitely in her teens, wearing strangely occult dress and also smiling.

The man was Phoenix Wright, defense attorney, and his companion was spirit medium Maya Fey.

Their smiles seemed to be contagious, as the sight of the two brought a similar grin on Gumshoe's face.

"Hey, pal! How're you doing?"

Wright was one of the few people that the detective could connect with. Unlike everyone on his side, he treated Gumshoe not just as a human being, but also as a friend. Sometimes it made Gumshoe consider quitting the force, but the need to pay the bills ensured this wasn't an option.

Like he'd expected, Wright was defending the Sue Nata's boyfriend, Al Legro. Despite being told by his superiors (mainly the whip-toting one) not to give away information about the case to the enemy, Gumshoe was always more lenient in conversation than he was meant to be. It usually resulted in von Karma not getting the guilty verdict she so desperately craved, but at least it meant that the truth always came out.

Gumshoe parted ways with the two shortly afterward, delivering the evidence he'd found to the precinct. This always proved to be a terrifying moment for him, as every faulty piece he brought in and every subtle clue he missed earned him a taste of the whip. He'd many so many mistakes over the last few months that it should have had little effect after that many hits, but every time Franziska struck him it was more painful than the time before. He had often been threatened with redundancy, but it was unlikely the chief would ever follow through with the threat - he was the lowest paid detective on the force, and replacing him would be too expensive to be worth it.

* * *

The next day Gumshoe visited the courtroom where the Sue Nata's trial was being held. The conflict between Wright's defense and von Karma's prosecution was always amazing to watch, mainly Wright's incredible turnarounds from the brink of defeat. His trials always carried a comic value, as he also had a habit of making foolish mistakes and generally winding the judge up the wrong way. On the other hand, von Karma's intense passion and determination always made good viewing, simply for the whipping that typically resulted. 

As always, Wright dug up the dirty truth. The real killer was Legro's best friend, Cray Shendo. He framed his 'friend' for Sue's murder as an act of revenge for beating him to a musical accolade a year earlier. Needless to say, von Karma was furious - bashing a new hole into her desk with her fist. Gumshoe could tell that he was in for one hell of a beating after the trial ended - even worse than she usually treated him.

But despite that, he couldn't help but smile. Even if Franziska was crestfallen, the rest of the courtroom always cheered and celebrated when Wright won a case. He even cut out confetti to throw from the stands when the verdict was declared.

The thought of the smiles in the courtroom kept Gumshoe sane while von Karma punished him for his mistakes, and gave him the strength to limp back to his desk and slip into a deep sleep.

By the time he woke up the wounds had healed and a new day had begun. And so the cycle always continued, for weeks and months afterward.

It was a cycle most people couldn't handle - the whipping, the hygiene, the whipping, the salary, the whipping, the food and of course _the whipping_.

But Dick Gumshoe didn't care. He had good friends (and a very high pain threshold) - and that was all he really needed.

* * *

MOC: Well, that's it. I intend to write a few more PW oneshots, then move on to Final Fantasy 12 (as soon as I beat the thing, that is). R&R! 


End file.
